


This River Is Wild

by ExistentialMalaises



Series: Prompts and Themes [5]
Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Cheating, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-11
Updated: 2020-05-13
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:20:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 19,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23559751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ExistentialMalaises/pseuds/ExistentialMalaises
Summary: With each passing day, Quentin becomes more detached. Although he’s only seated a few feet away from her, on the floor by the sofa, surrounded by ancient books, he might as well have been on a different part of the world. His mind certainly is. Before breakfast, he’s already trying to find a way to bring Eliot back. Alice understands the thirst for knowledge, even without additional incentives like saving loved ones, so she hasn’t said anything. Instead, Alice makes Quentin breakfast.“Need help with that?” Penny appears at her side, clad in a floral print that leaves nothing to her imagination, and signals with his chin to the empty pan on the stove.Or: Alice cheats on Quentin with Penny.
Relationships: Quentin Coldwater/Alice Quinn, William "Penny" Adiyodi/Alice Quinn
Series: Prompts and Themes [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1011330
Comments: 44
Kudos: 26





	1. Playing All My Cards

**Author's Note:**

> Hello there! Welcome. This is a story that involves infidelity, and was prompted by a very angsty line of dialogue (not spoiling). It was supposed to be fun, melodramatic angst, but it has become a more serious character study of two of my beloved characters on the show. Plus cheating, drama, and angst. 
> 
> It's mostly canon-divergent, but this story does follow the major emotional beats of season 4, so keep that in mind.
> 
> A huge thank you to yourcrookedheart for supporting me in all my writings. I didn't think I would write for this fandom, and certainly not this, but you inspired me, anyway. Thank you!

> “ _The truth is that fullness of soul can sometimes overflow in utter vapidity of language, for none of us can ever express the exact measure of his needs or his thoughts or his sorrows; and human speech is like a cracked kettle on which we tap crude rhythms for bears to dance to, while we long to make music that will melt the stars._ ” ― Gustave Flaubert, _Madame Bovary._

The days blend together at the penthouse. Alice is unable to ascertain a weekday from the weekend without technological support. _Groundhog Day_ comes to mind. She hates that movie. From the lack of middle fingers Julia has given Alice, she suspects too much time has passed. Alice whips out her mobile, and stares at the date. It’s been fifteen days since she’s rekindled her relationship with Quentin. 

With each passing day, Quentin becomes more detached. Although he’s only seated a few feet away from her, on the floor by the sofa, surrounded by ancient books, he might as well have been on a different part of the world. His mind certainly is. Before breakfast, he’s already trying to find a way to bring Eliot back. Alice understands the thirst for knowledge, even without additional incentives like saving loved ones, so she hasn’t said anything. Instead, Alice makes Quentin breakfast. 

“Need help with that?” Penny appears at her side, clad in a floral print that leaves nothing to her imagination, and signals with his chin to the empty pan on the stove.

“Oh.” Alice nods, steps away from Penny, then opens the fridge. “ _Oh_.” Josh had stress-cooked a feast the night before, but failed to do grocery shopping. Living together with an inconsistent number of roommates leaves something to be desired. Alice shuts the fridge with a sigh, and considers other breakfast options. Her mother’s voice enters her mind. Alice should’ve considered food magic a more consequential aspect worth investing in. A suggestion for her next round at Brakebills’ library. 

“How does specialty bagels from _Murray’s_ sound?” Penny beckons her with a smile as he rests his elbow on the white marble countertop. 

Alice returns the gesture, thankful for one thing to work in her benefit, one person she can count on. “Incredible,” Alice says. This Penny is different from the one she met years ago, not in a good or bad way, just a subsequent stage of character development. Alice believes the original Penny’s rough edges would’ve smoothed down with maturity too. Time and certain choices Alice made have done the same for her. Life has a way of screwing over everyone, no timeline is free from that. 

“Caffé mocha, one sugar?” Penny asks.

“Thank you.” Alice averts her gaze, but she can’t prevent the warmth in her cheeks. It’s her favorite order. Only a small thing. But Alice can’t remember the last time someone made an effort to think of the small things. Her eyes land on Quentin’s back. “Uhh, could you get something for Quentin too?” 

“Right. I’ll get enough for everyone,” Penny says. “How many are we with?” 

Alice contemplates the whereabouts of all their roommates. Margo and Josh have returned to Fillory. “Five, I think.” One inexperienced but extremely psychopathic monster is deducted from the calculation. Not exactly a roommate. Though not-Eliot does have a tendency to gobble down most of her snacks when he’s in a mood. And he’s _always_ in a mood. “Actually, make that seven.” 

Alice puts away the pan, and starts a grocery list. Within a few minutes Penny returns and hands her a disposable tray of coffee cups. Together they deposit today’s breakfast next to the stove. After they’re done, Alice sips on her coffee, and tells herself to release the tension in her shoulders, while Penny scoots on top of the countertop and bites into a vegetarian bagel. 

There’s a comfortable silence between them that’s interrupted by her grumbling stomach. Alice’s eyes widen, but before she has a chance to glance Penny’s way, he’s passing her a purple macaroon. She nibs on the pastry, and searches for a bagel Quentin would like. She brings him a beef bagel, and he finally puts away his book. 

“Hi. You got bagels?” Quentin accepts the sandwich and stretches his legs. 

Alice shakes her head. “Penny did.” 

“Oh.” Quentin shifts to the kitchen, where Penny is still eating and now also watching. Quentin wags the bagel in the air, and mumbles, “Thanks.” 

“How’s it going?” Alice asks. 

“You know…” Quentin stares at the messy scribbles, then picks up the book again. Locks of his hair fall in front of his tired eyes, and Alice resists the urge to touch him. The deepened lines in his face indicate he’s off again, best to be left alone. The bagel remains uneaten, on the floor next to him. 

Alice taps her fingers on the rug, the sound reduced by the soft fur, and she struggles with herself again. She wants to help him, and she’s a useful asset in most situations, yet finds herself uncomfortably inept. She worries for him. This Quentin, although from the same timeline, has changed, and is different to her. Distant. It makes it hard for her to help him. 

The distance makes her stagnant, like the days blending together. 

Penny’s eyes are still on her, she can feel him, and he quickens her decision process. She returns to the kitchen to satisfy her own needs. A seasoned bagel thickly garnished with homemade tuna salad, melted cheddar, and bacon. 

Her favorite kind, in fact. 

Whatever she is going to do next, she needs fuel first. 

Alice takes a seat on the kitchen bench. As she fills herself with nutrition, her mind races towards the steps she might have missed since she’s started helping the group. There are different things at play that ask her attention: The Library, Kady’s hedge-witch business, the Monster. Her foot taps in an erratic rhythm against the side of the bench. After experiencing a few apocalyptic years at Brakebills, Alice is able to recognize the signs when she’s spreading herself thin. But if she is, then so is Quentin. 

Penny leaps off the countertop after she’s done eating, flattens his hands on the marble, his arms wide apart, and gravitates towards her. “Are you holding up?” There’s a tenderness to his tone that she’s had to get used to, one of the biggest changes between the two Penny’s she knows. 

She pushes away the instinctive need to close herself off, and nods. “Uhm, I’m trying.” 

“Well, you look like you need a break,” Penny says. Alice opens her mouth, but promptly shuts it. She feels slighted, to what end she doesn’t know, so she doesn’t want to snap at him. Not without knowing why. “I can’t be cooped up all day. I need some fresh air, and shit.” 

Alice walks to the trash can, turns her back to him, and throws away her wrapping. “Don’t we all,” she mutters, “but I don’t think it’s the right time.”

“Never is. But you’re no good like this,” Penny says from behind her while she washes her hands. “Everyone needs a break. Even you, Alice.” 

She sighs, and faces him again, something crawling under her skin. He’s leaning against the marble countertop now, arms crossed in front of his chest. His patience is still only available in a limited supply, and Alice imagines he’s almost out. Still, she’s curious how different this Penny is. “But Q—” 

“That idiot is clearly not interested in taking one. His prerogative.” Penny holds out the palm of his hand to Alice, and she glimpses behind him to Quentin, who still hasn’t eaten a bite of his bagel. 

She chews on her lip, then takes Penny’s hand, warm and calloused. “We’re traveling?” There’s a flash, and before she can blink, she’s on a different part of the world. 

“It’s my specialty,” Penny says with a satisfied grin. 

Alice ignores him, in part because she doesn’t want to add to his satisfaction, but mostly because of their surroundings. A red lagoon, broken up by white crystals, and encircled by brown rocky mountains. “Where are we?” 

“Bolivia.” 

She doesn’t know where to look, and her eyes try to snap every image to memory. “Is it magic? Nature? Science?” 

“The red color comes from the algae. Same goes for the flamingos,” Penny points at the tall birds. Like the land, they’re a concoction of white and red, resulting in a pink stain on their feathers. Alice gives Penny a questioning look, and he manages to read her mind. “Sometimes I visit places based on shit I see in _National Geographic_.” 

“Really?”

“In this timeline the magazine still exists, so I just—”

“No, that’s great. You can see for yourself whether it lives up to the story or picture.” Alice bobs her head. “Written any angry emails yet when it doesn’t?” 

“Nah, that sounds like your move.” 

“I would not! You don’t know me!” Alice scoffs, but when he raises his eyebrow in disbelief, her shoulders sag. “I would. I would.”

He laughs at that, and she doesn’t fight her smile this time. They fall in another comfortable silence, strolling around the red lagoon, hands in her pockets, wind in her hair, and it’s the first time in weeks that she doesn’t have to tell herself to relax. She just is.

The realization makes Alice wonder. “Uhm, how well did you know me? In your timeline?” 

Penny shrugs, opening his arms, as if he’s embracing the wind that sweeps past them. It looks so freeing. There’s a weird tingle in her fingers. She shoves them deeper into her pockets. “Pretty well,” Penny says. “I was dating Julia, and you—I mean, the other Alice—were with Quentin, so we saw a lot of each other because of them.” 

Alice considers his words. Even in different timelines, Quentin sought her out, or the other way around. She isn’t sure. But that counts for something, right? Instead, Alice asks, “Did we get along?” 

“Yeah. We were friends.” Penny takes a few long strides, then faces her. The wind blows his barely buttoned floral fabric towards her. “What about in this timeline?” 

“Mhmm.” Alice halts, and directs her gaze to the flamingos. 

“So, even without the Julia-factor, we managed to become friends?” Penny asks, his eyes concentrated on her. “How’d that happen?” 

This time it’s her turn to shrug. There’s so much to tell, nothing to tell at all. “Uhm. A common enemy? Our Penny here had a challenging time with the Beast.” 

“Yeah, that’s familiar territory.” 

“Is it hard? Being here?” 

“In this timeline? No. Everything’s dead and gone in mine.” Penny turns to the flamingos too. “But… it _is_ complicated.” 

“It’s never easy, is it?” 

“Doesn’t look that way for you either. I couldn’t help but notice.” 

Alice quirks her eyebrow, her tone dry. “Because you were watching?” 

“I was eating breakfast. Minding my own business. But the lack of pleasantries are difficult to ignore,” Penny says, and rolls his eyes. The other Penny would have told them to take their affair elsewhere. But then he adds, “Quentin is a dick.” 

“He’s going through a hard time,” Alice bites back. 

But the argument isn’t good enough for Penny. “Who isn’t.” 

She shakes her head, already tired from mulling it over one too many times. “It’s just—He’s not letting me in, and... no one wants me around after what I did.” 

“That last part isn’t true,” Penny says, and raises his shoulders. “You got on Kady’s good side.” 

“If we can call it that.” Alice clasps her arms, and draws a deep breath. “Well, one down.” 

“Two down.” Penny slants towards her, a serious glint in his dark eyes, and hers widen. “Besides, you don’t need anyone’s approval.” His voice takes on a bleak edge as he faces the flamingos again. The floral print of his vest continues to ripple against his still torso, almost like an image ripped from the pages of those Harlequin novels that Alice reads on sick days—something she’d never admit to anyone. “You did what you thought was right, and you paid the price. You learned the hard way. They can either accept that, or fuck off.” 

“It’s not that easy for me,” Alice says, and her eyes gloss over. She wants to be stronger. She’s expecting to take crap from people, she’s ready to take the beating. Compassion, however, is unexpected. It’s not supposed to be easy. She swallows away the thought. “I’m not on good terms with a lot of people, and sometimes I think that’s because of me.” 

“Have you met these shitheads?” Penny lets out an exasperated laugh. “We’re all accountable for the misery we create. No one comes off scot free.” 

“Not even you?” 

“I’m living the life of my dead predecessor, reminding his lover every day that I’m not him while seeing the woman I loved walk around alive and kicking. But it’s not _her_ either, it’s someone else. And I chose to stay here. I could’ve left. Not just this timeline, but the apartment too.” 

“Then why do you stay?” Alice lowers her voice, worried that if she speaks louder, it might pop whatever bubble they’re in, and she’d be by herself once more. 

“Fuck if I know.” Penny waves his hand in front of him, then runs it through his hair. “Complicated is easier than starting from scratch. I’ve had to start over so often in my life, had to leave people I loved behind. Sometimes I did that willingly, other times I was forced into it. I don’t know. I don’t want to run from shit anymore.” He kicks at a small rock, and saunters ahead. Alice follows, and he glances back at her with a grin. “Plus, I’m on Kady’s good side too.” 

Alice crinkles her nose, unable to fight her smile. “Please, you’re privileged!” 

“Yeah, you bet I’m playing all my cards.” Penny laughs, and throws his hands in the air as if that’s the only right answer. 

She chortles, surprising herself. The sun gleams on the red lagoon, and washes a warmth over Alice’s shoulders that releases her of all her troubles, momentarily far from her mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Comments and kudos are appreciated.  
> Find me on [Tumblr](https://existentialmalaises.tumblr.com/).


	2. Nature Sounds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Penny reads a magazine.

Breakfast becomes an unexpected highlight of Alice’s days. No longer a blur, but defined by her morning activities. It doesn’t come with a preemptive plan, not on her part, yet she allows the development of a new routine. One moment in the day that doesn’t revolve around solving problems for other people, and that’s not about Alice feeling guilty and trying to make up for her mistakes. It’s a newfound energy, one she felt was missing, or maybe thought she wasn’t allowed to have. Every morning she’s up before her roommates, and Penny wanders into the kitchen as she gathers the supplies for whatever she has in mind. He helps out. There’s an arrangement in place, and she’s become more equipped with food magic too thanks to a few books. Though Penny’s unique talents are always a welcome change. 

Her mornings help Alice with the rest of the day. There’s few things she loves more than surrounding herself with thick, fragile books that require a featherlight touch and gloves. But if the end result leads to killing a handful of gods, however terrible they may be, it takes the excitement out of research. It only reminds her of where she’s been. Her whole “the means justify the end” arc, a magic bender to obtain as much knowledge on the most complicated and singular spells, then to take all magic away, is a lesson. Those things have to be of significance, even the bad parts. For Alice, it means trying to be a better person in the aftermath of all her decisions. Decisions that hurt other people. So Alice doesn’t believe what they’re doing right now is the answer. 

Some foolish part of Alice thinks she can convince Quentin of that, make him consider another direction, especially after Julia urges her to talk to him. But he won’t hear it. Not from Julia. Not from Alice either. 

“I can’t keep having this conversation,” Quentin says, and storms into his bedroom on the second level of the penthouse. He throws his vest on the side of the bed, the space taken up by scrolls and books instead of her, then rummages through his closet.

Alice stands at the foot of his bed. Clothes that she’s seen him in this week are scattered on the floor. She takes a breath, and tries to control her emotions. “Well, if multiple people are trying to have it with you, maybe there’s more merit to it than you’re giving it.” 

“I don’t care. I can’t change anything about Julia’s situation,” Quentin says without any ardor. “I can’t fix the world again. But I have to do something about Eliot. I can’t let him die.”

“Even if that means risking innocent people’s lives?” 

Quentin stops his actions, and jerks to Alice. “The Gods aren’t innocent.” 

“We don’t know that. And that guy on the news, did he deserve to die?” 

“You, of all people, don’t get to question any of that.” 

“Just me, then?” Alice mutters as her cheeks burn. But Quentin doesn’t respond to her question. Instead, he selects a shirt, and steps out of his closet. Alice grinds her teeth, and takes another breath. “I’m trying to help _you_.” 

“This isn’t helping.” Quentin stands still in front of her, his shoulders sag while he makes a silent appeal with his eyes. “We just need to find the stones.” 

“And then what?” 

“We’ll see when we get there.” 

There is nothing more devastating to Alice than uncertainty. At the very least, if one does enough research, there’s always an assumption. An hypothesis. Impulsive actions based on wishful thinking, without a care of the cold, hard facts, has led them to doom each time. And yet it costs her to ask the next question, a voice inside of her doesn’t want to express reason when she can clearly see Quentin is hurting. But enabling him, without uttering other options, would be hurting him too. “How many more people get to die in the meantime?” 

“Jesus, Alice.” Quentin rubs the side of his head. “I don’t know. Honestly, I don’t care.” 

He’s tired. The dark circles under his eyes add to an increasing gaunt appearance. When he isn’t sleeping, he’s inquiring into whatever he might find. Somewhere in between all of that, Alice forces him to eat. He’s hurting. She can see that, but she doesn’t know how to help him, not when he won’t let her. She reaches for his arm, to offer the warmth of an embrace, to offer something. “What if you take a break, and I’ll try to—”

Quentin moves out of her reach, and grabs a towel from his desk chair, a vacant stare in his eyes. “We’re running out of time. If you’re not going to help, if you keep questioning every step I make, then I don’t need—I’ll figure it out myself.” 

“That’s not what I meant, Q. I’m not—”

There’s sadness in his eyes, but his words come out without faltering, “Just, please, Alice, leave me to it.” Quentin opens the door to his en-suite bathroom, and signals to his bedroom door. 

Alice swallows, and tries to push away the nausea building in the pit of her stomach. She stumbles backward. She’ll give Quentin what he wants. She can’t help someone who doesn’t want to be helped. 

She has had to learn that the hard way. And she isn’t going to lose herself for someone else anymore, no matter how much she loves them. 

Her hands clench around the rail of the circular staircase, and Alice composes herself with each step down to the living room. She counts the items around the sofa in her head to reduce the overwhelming sensation in her stomach. A scarlet luster descends over the inanimate objects as the sun disappears from the horizon, casting shadows on the other side. 

Kady is looming over the marble countertop in the kitchen, popping pieces of cut fruit in her mouth with a fork, her other hand occupied with her phone. She tips her head back when Alice meets her eyes, and Alice nods and quickens her pace to her bedroom. She doesn’t want to deal with people right now. Before she can, Julia and Penny exit the study, and call out to her. 

Not letting Julia bring up the embarrassing situation, Alice spits out the words. “It didn’t work. I couldn’t get through to him.” 

“Crap.” Julia mumbles to herself, her expression closed up, probably considering other options to help her best friend. “What if we—” 

“I don’t want to talk about it right now.” Alice lifts a hand, and sticks her nose in the air to make her point clear. She doesn’t mean to push Julia away, but it’s still fresh. Alice also doesn’t fail to notice that Julia has only come to her as a desperate attempt to take care of Quentin—their common interest. “Later, ok?” 

Julia’s mouth curves into a silent ‘oh’ as she shifts the weight from one hip to the other. Her pity is palpable, and Alice can’t stand it. She flickers her eyes away from them, around the room, to the sofa behind them, only to land back on Penny—he just scrutinizes her. An unreadable face. She’s seen him do that with Kady too, thoughts in his head that he doesn’t share. Not a word spent. She doesn’t waste any either. A quick spin, and she’s practically in her room, the door shut tight behind her. 

She’s breathing a little faster, unnecessarily so. Alice can’t believe how reduced she is, to the nervous school girl she once was, far too concerned with what people think of her, much safer with the books in her arms. But rejection can bring out the most tender parts in anyone. 

Alice takes off her shoes, and curls up on her bed, the comforter wrapped around her body. The thud of her heart slows down with every new inhalation until Alice doesn’t hear its laments anymore. She slides her phone out of the pocket of her skirt, and browses through her  “nature sounds”  playlist. The wind whooshing past the trees in a forest, with noises from the respective animals. A frog croaking. An owl hooting. Birds chirping. She identifies all the noises, and by the time she finishes, her mind is calmer. 

A knock on her door stirs her body into action. She pauses her playlist, and sits up straight against the cushioned headboard when Penny walks into her bedroom. 

She examines the state of the room, and to her relief there’s nothing in plain sight that she’d rather hide. He’s never been in here before. The kitchen or dinner table is where they spend most of their time together, but he isn’t affected by the change of scenery at all. He drags her desk chair to the side of her bed, and perches himself on it. She can’t help but compare it to the one time the other Penny entered her bedroom. Alice touches her glasses, then tucks a stray lock of hair behind her ear. 

Penny sighs. “Are you just going to mope here all day?” 

“Excuse me?” Alice gapes at him, and he slouches in the chair. 

“It’s been a long day. I could use a break,” he says. “Join me.” 

“Well, where are you going?” Alice raises her shoulder lightly, a little annoyed at his less than gentle tone, something she’s had her fill of today. Luckily for him, her gratitude currently outweighs her annoyance. The day is over, and she doesn’t want to socialize, but she doesn’t want to sulk either. She doesn’t want to give into that. Yet, without an external motivator, she would have remained in her bed, unsatisfied and bitter, together with the current book resting on her nightstand. 

Penny smiles, evidently not convinced by her display of indifference. “Amsterdam’s pretty good at night.” 

“The Netherlands?” She isn’t expecting that. All the other places he’s taken her to, or locations she’s requested, have had a more soothing disposition. But she’s up for something different. “I’ve never been.” Not even as a niffin, Alice reminds herself. “The Innovation Center for Magical Amplifiers is supposed to be unconventional.” 

“We’re not doing that.”

“I know,” Alice snaps, then stares at the time on her phone. “It’s the middle of the night there. Uhm. Have you asked Kady or Julia?” 

He shakes his head, then stands up. “We can.” 

Another unreadable expression. Alice doesn’t like that she feels a little dissatisfied with his response, though she has no good reason to. She frees herself from the comforter, and gets out of bed. “Ok, I’m in. Just give me ten minutes to freshen up.” Penny leaves her to her business. 

In her bathroom, Alice dabs a rosy lipstick on her lips, then catches her sight in the mirror. Tired and cold features inhabit her face after another arduous day. It’s nothing out of the ordinary, for Alice to be touching up her makeup to last through the night and spraying her favorite fragrance on delicate parts of her body. 

Nothing out of the ordinary at all. 

“Where are the others?” Alice asks when she walks into an empty living room, just Penny lounging on the sofa with a magazine in front of his head. 

He puts the magazine on the coffee table, and nears her. “Julia doesn’t want to leave Quentin alone, and Kady doesn’t think clubbing in weed city is her best option.” 

“Oh…” 

Penny opens his hand, and she takes it. It only takes a flash, but they’re on a dark street in the beating heart of Amsterdam. Gray lanterns cast a golden glow on small clusters of staggering women with high heels. “I’m surprised you said yes,” Penny says as he lets go of her hand. “Clubbing doesn’t seem like your thing.” 

“I can have fun.” Alice scrunches her eyebrows together, and leaps to the side of a building for cover from the rain.

Penny follows her. “That’s not what I said.” 

Once the rain slows down, they wait in line to enter a small building. Small is relative, because the structures are densely located to each other. Efficient, when there is not a lot of land. Alice sees the appeal. 

The music is blaring through the door, a genre she doesn’t listen to by choice, and maybe Penny is right. Not that she’ll admit that. This isn’t her thing, but it doesn’t need to be. 

As soon as they’re inside, Alice hits the bar, hell-bent on a distraction from Quentin and proving a point to Penny at the same time. She’s not one to give into peer-pressure, but she can have fun. She’s not all serious, all moping, all books, all the time. Only for most of it. 

“Two shots of Tequila.” 


	3. Healthy Coping Mechanisms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alice is crying outside the club.

One shot later, and Alice is already feeling giddy. The music isn’t that bad either. She’s discovered an underlying cadence to the songs, one that she can sway to. The space is filled with curving figures, twirling around each other like oiled thread, an intoxicating spark that Alice can sense in the tips of her fingers. The scent of alcohol and sweat fills the air. Strangely enough, there’s an inviting pull. Not exactly magical, rather a rudimentary stage of modern harmony, but it could be worth her attention.

She smiles to herself when she feels a hand on her shoulder. Penny is standing behind her, overlooking the same dancing crowd, and he’s offering her a drink with a straw. She takes it. He says something, but she can’t hear him over the music. He bends down a few inches, near her ear where his warm breath is palpable. “It’s not that bad, right?” Penny swigs from a beer bottle, a Dutch brand she’s never heard of before. “Are you going to hit the dance floor?” 

Her fingers tighten around the glass, thoughts of the last time they drank together enter her mind, and how he ended up in her bed. The other Penny. Alice chuckles, and tucks a lock of hair behind her ear. “I don’t think so.” She sips on the drink. A soda. Probably for the best, because she isn’t looking to humiliate herself. 

“It’s not that hard.” Penny bumps her shoulder, then performs a dance move with his hands in the air, and his hips pivoting in a way that’s not too different from the mass inside this shaded room. 

Alice slaps a hand to her mouth, an instinctive reaction so she doesn’t laugh too loudly, but it’s unnecessary. Neither of them can hear it. She drops her hand, and shakes her head. “No,” she says, and chortles. Penny grins, then takes another swig of his beer. He doesn’t seem to mind the rejection, or that she’s laughing, which has more to do with her own nerves. What _would_ bother him? Each morning, spent together with Penny, Alice acquires indiscriminate details about him to ascertain a clearer picture of his makeup. Questions have a tendency of popping in her head, especially around him. Because he’s from a different timeline, he’s lived a different life. It’s a rather unique situation. “Do you go clubbing often?” 

He thumbs the opening of his beer bottle. “Not since coming to Brakebills. Parties at the Cottage don’t count, though they were certainly something.” 

“Did I go those parties?” Alice leans against the rail that is separating them from the dancefloor, her back towards it. 

Penny moves next to her, against the rail, the side of his body touching her, his breath still in her neck. A tremble crawls down her back. “You were there for some, usually in the back or some corner.” 

Indistinguishable from this exact moment then, Alice surmises and gulps down her soda. “And you?” 

Penny chuckles, and glances at his feet before meeting her eyes. “I tried to take the parties to a more discrete location.” 

“With Julia?” It’s not a surprise, but she still wants the confirmation. Another situation that hasn’t changed in a different timeline, Penny sharing moments with Julia in discrete places. She hums to herself. It’s a strange thing to feel resentful over, but he’s the only one she shares these moments with. A rapport. Intimacy. It’s been too long ago with Quentin, there’s been so many hurdles for them, acrimony, even before this new monstrous obstacle. In spite of it all, she still wanted him. He had been the best thing that had happened to her, someone who fought past her fences when she put them up so high. 

“What?” Penny asks. 

“Nothing.” 

He nudges her shoulder. “Spit it out.” 

“You spend a lot of time with this Julia.”

“Old habits, I guess,” he says, and it’s too casual for Alice. She’s not buying what he’s selling. But then he hunches his shoulders. “It doesn’t help that my Julia got murdered because she listened to that fool. I want to be ahead of the curve this time.” 

Alice furrows her eyebrows together, and tries to remember all the information she got from a disturbed Josh about timeline 23. “Quentin? He wouldn’t.”

Penny squints his eyes. “He has.” 

“From what I’ve been told, he didn’t have his shade. He wasn’t himself.” 

“Whatever that means,” Penny says, and cocks his head back. “You’re quick to defend him after the way he treated you.” 

She considers his words. Her relationship with Quentin is more complicated than that. “Quentin is many things, good and frustrating, but he has heart. Even if that works against him—against me.” Alice sucks in her cheeks, now vexed that she _is_ , in fact, defending him. 

“Sure. I’m going to step out for a minute,” Penny says, and brings two pinched fingers to his lips, indicating the activity he’ll be up to. A smoke. 

“Uhm, I’ll come.” Alice straightens herself, and removes the straw from her soda and gulps down the rest. 

Penny raises his eyebrows. “You’ve got nothing to prove.” 

After she finishes her drink, Alice heads to the exit. “Oh, please. Each weekend at my parents was like another unwanted production of a _Cheech & Chong_ movie,” she says with a stern voice while Penny keeps up with her. “Except that it was full of weird historical posturing. Minus the racism. Mostly.” 

Out on the street, Penny leans against a gray lantern, taps the marijuana cigarette against his hand, then lits it up. “You know what. That explains so much.”

Alice smiles when she notices the playful glint in his dark eyes. She shakes her head. “Does it bother you? People their thoughts? Is that why you smoke?” 

“The right hit helps me drown it out when necessary.” Penny takes another draw, then offers the cigarette to Alice. She declines. “Loud music blasting from speakers also helps.” 

The cold from the night starts to set in her bones, and she wraps her arms around herself. “That sounds like healthy coping mechanisms.” 

He slants towards her. “Beats being alone in my bed crying over a douche.” 

Alice scoffs. “I wasn’t. I wasn’t crying.” 

“But your little heart was,” Penny says with a slow smile. 

Everything tenses together inside of her. She hates that he sees her weak parts so easily. He can keep his words, reserve his judgement, she doesn’t want any of it. She clenches her jaws together, her foot shuffling, resisting the urge to walk away from the unwanted evaluation. But she’s not willing to prove him right. “You’re such a jerk.” 

Penny quirks an eyebrow. “Feel better?” 

“No.” 

“Then you’re still holding back.” 

Recognition dawns on her face, feelings of betrayal dissipating, making way for annoyance. “You’re an asshole.” 

“I know.” 

“Screw you,” Alice mumbles, then blows out a breath to bury the nauseating tension in her stomach. But it comes clawing out. “It’s so frustrating. Quentin, he, he isn’t listening to anyone. I don’t know how to make him see reason. I-I don’t know what I’m doing at all.” There’s a thickness in her throat. Pain tugs at the admission, at her failure. “He’s on this path… he’s hurting himself, but he won’t see it,” Alice says, no longer able to hold herself back, her vision blurring. “I-I can’t help him.” She’s no longer convinced Quentin still wants her around. 

“It’s difficult when all you can do is stand by and watch the person you care for suffer,” Penny says, capable of tenderness again. She wants to bite his head off, but she can’t move.

Like a rock in the sand, she just stands in front of him, eyes pointed to her feet, accepting the next crash of waves. “It’s alienating.” Her voice cracks, tears roll down her cheek, and she’s proved Penny right. What’s more unbearable is his silence. Alice peers down the dark road, she needs to leave before it’s too late. She doesn’t have time to be a mess, not when there’s people relying on her. Then, he pulls her against his chest, and she breaks. 

The rain comes pouring down, and washes the streets clean, along with it any wards Alice has put around her heart. 

“I’m—I’m, just, _so_ tired,” Alice chokes out between sobs. What she isn’t saying is how selfish she feels to be standing here, opening up to someone else, when Quentin is doing everything within his means to save a person he loves, at his own expense. But she can’t continue that cycle anymore. She’s too tired. 

When both of Penny’s arms tightens around her body, she takes off her glasses and closes her eyes. A waft of musky aroma and burned grass fill her nostrils. She takes a deep breath, and sinks further into his warmth. They stand underneath the yellow glow of the lantern, she doesn’t know for how long, at least until her shoulders stop shaking and she’s ready to put herself together again. 

“I forgot how much I hate the fucking rain in Amsterdam,” Penny says when Alice steps back, and wipes away the tears from her face. His brown eyes are on her, reading her facial expressions, seeing parts of her she doesn’t mean to show him, and she doesn’t think she’ll ever get used to it. A final draw from his joint, then he crushes it with the sole of his boot. “Are you hungry? This shit always gives me the munchies.” 

Alice is still shivering, cold, wet hair sticking to her face, but she inclines her head. She’s more than willing to change the subject and move past her flood of emotions. “What’s good around here?” 

“Shawarma?”


	4. Covert Wars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Penny listens to a song.

For the first time in a long while, Alice sleeps well. When she wakes up early in the morning, everything is lighter, she is ready to take on whatever the new day brings. She doesn’t know how to help Quentin, and he doesn’t want her help. Nothing she can change about it. She’s got other concerns lining up in dire need of handling, anyway. One of those is Dean Fogg’s request for a meeting at his office, which leads to a rather painful encounter with her mother the following day—a necessary means for a private exchange with Zelda to remain concealed from the Library’s omniscient eye. Then, for reasons she can’t comprehend, Sheila becomes a part of the Library, fallen to the cult, and Alice makes annihilating that wretched institution her number one priority. 

Besides a newfound purpose, the subsequent events also serve as a reminder that sometimes she is the one to push people away. 

She had rushed out the door each day, without her breakfast ritual, better bought on the street, to avoid Penny after the disaster she had been a few nights before. For three consecutive days now. Classic Alice, can’t imagine the possibility of someone actually caring, so she just makes it about what awful things they must think of her—how weak and messy she must seem to him. She’s not going to do that anymore. Not after hearing her mother, even if she remains a veritable disappointment. Other people may surprise her, Penny may.

The sun has set by the time Alice reaches the penthouse. She marches into her bathroom where she freshens up, and contemplates another outfit. She decides against it, puts in contacts, and scrolls through Yelp for dinner options on her phone instead. With an occupied mind, she saunters into the living room. 

Julia’s voice calls for her from the dining table. She’s seated alongside Penny, one of many shared moments between them. They look uninhibited, like they just _fit_ , what Alice imagines he’s like with his Julia from his timeline. Maybe this Julia will be his too; her shoulders tighten at the thought. A chair across from Julia slides away from the table, her way of inviting Alice to sit down. Alice hesitates, but then nears the edge of the chair. She doesn’t sit down. 

“We need to talk about Quentin,” Julia says. 

“I’m done considering what Quentin needs,” Alice says, and her awkwardness is spewed out on the table. Then, because she’s hungry, and doesn’t want to be near them, she adds, “I’m going out for dinner. Do you want to join?” 

“I’m good,” Julia says, her is voice slightly elevated, there to remind Alice they’re not actually friends. It doesn’t matter. The question isn’t meant for Julia. 

Alice glances to Penny. He’s staring at Julia with a tilted head, and although no actual words are spoken, the slight rise of Julia’s eyebrow and her forced smile say otherwise. That _does_ surprise Alice. Not that this is subtle, but she’s used to sharpened knives, not blunt ones, when it comes to Julia. Penny rolls his eyes, then stands up. “Yeah. I could eat.” 

He drapes a colorful scarf around his neck, then they take the elevator down in silence. “You women are ruthless,” he says with a chuckle when they’re marching down the street. Their pace is evenly matched to that of native New Yorkers. She’s actually blending in. “With your covert wars.” 

“I’ve been on an apology tour.” Alice straightens her skirt, then meets his eyes. “But I’m no longer going to plead for it.” 

“Damn right, girl.” Penny grins, his voice low, then shows her his fist. She bites her lip, and gives him a fist bump. “So, what are you in the mood for?” 

Alice pulls out her phone, and shows him a screenshot. “The people of Yelp are recommending this Indian place that’s not too far from here.” 

“Are they white people?” The corner of his mouth turns up, not exactly into a smile, but she can tell he’s teasing her. Alice also knows he’s not willing to believe the reviews in that case. It’s a long discussion she’s not having with him again.

“No, I checked.” Alice points to a detail on the screenshot. 

“Then I’m down,” Penny says, and Alice leads them to the restaurant. “I haven’t seen your face around the apartment in a while.” 

“I was doing a favor for Zelda in exchange for protection.” 

“Protection? Zelda? She’s the librarian, right?” 

“She is. How much do you know about her?” 

Penny blows out a breath, taking a moment to think. “Not a lot. Just what Josh caught me up on. She, uhh, works in the Neitherlands for the Library, and roped the other Penny into working for them.” 

“What are thou, Faustus, but a man condemned to die,” Alice says, and her head bobs along with the stressed syllables. 

“Are you reciting... _Doctor Faustus_?” Penny asks, and slows down his pace. He opens his mouth, and it looks like he’s about to say something, but then he continues walking. 

Alice smiles, pleased with herself, blood rushing up to her chest. She returns to the actual topic at hand. The deal with Zelda, and how Sheila got tricked into the Library’s service this time. “I have to stop them.” 

“Your friend might not want to be saved,” Penny says.

She shakes her head. He doesn’t understand how the Library manipulates people, how easily it swallows them whole. The other Penny. Her. Now Sheila. “She doesn’t know what she’s up against.” 

“Sounds like you two need to have a chat.” 

“I guess.” Alice pulls at the sleeve of her shirt. She’s learned the hard way that she can’t make decisions for other people. Perhaps another conversation is the right alternative. That’s something she can definitely do. “Did anything interesting happen while I was gone?” 

“Uhh, yes. You could say that. ” Penny squints his eyes, and nods. “There was a dragon, a missing egg, some pregnant chick, beastiality, and a major hangover. In that exact order.”

Her mouth falls open. “A dragon egg? I missed out!” 

“Trust me, you didn’t.” 

“Who is pregnant?” 

“I think her name is Polly? Poppy?” Penny says, and Alice freezes in the middle of the street. It takes him three long strides before he notices Alice is no longer next to him. He stands in front of her, eyebrows pulled together. “What’s up?” 

“Who—who is the father?” 

He folds his arms over his chest. “Not your boyfriend, according to Julia.” 

Alice needs another minute to process that, to wrap her head around a messy person like Poppy bringing a child into the world. Alice doesn’t know Poppy well, but she knows enough about shitty mothers to pity the child. At least there’s a silver lining. Not Quentin’s. She doesn’t get to think about it for too long, has to put the thoughts away, because they arrive at the Indian restaurant, and Penny is already examining it with a critical eye. She likes it, his serious demeanor. 

The first thing that stands out about the restaurant, which is also her main reason for visiting, is the fairy lights that adorn the walls and ceiling, casting a dim, kaleidoscopic luminosity throughout. The second one comes as soon as the door opens—a rich fragrance in the air, where spice meets zest. Under other circumstances, the setting would be perfect for a date. 

“Alright, it’s got my approval,” Penny says after they’re seated across from another at a tiny table, cooped up between people from all walks of life, no monstrous or apocalyptic weight on their shoulders. Hopefully, only mundane ones. 

Alice smiles brightly, feeling herself relax. “They _really_ needed it.” 

Penny catches her eyes from above his plasticized menu, a glint of mischief detectable in the heart of his darkness. She leans back in her seat, pushing away the flutter in her chest. “Do you want to share the biryani?” He asks. 

“Share? Are you not—” 

“I already ate.” 

“Oh, you’re humoring me.” Alice wrinkles her nose. 

“I’m getting free food, since you’re paying. That’s not an opportunity to pass up.” 

“Fine,” she says, and puts down her menu. “We can share.” 

Their tiny table is filled with water, sodas, chicken biryani and a few starters, which Penny decides on at the last minute, obviously making the most of his free dinner. Alice sips on her soda and soaks in the melodies sang by women with high-pitched voices that are completely foreign to her. She makes a mental note to look into Hindi as she observes an absent-minded smile on Penny’s face at the recognition of one of the songs. She can’t decipher this particular smile. It seems personal, so she doesn’t ask, but Penny notices her stare, and he tells her about his mother. 

The conversation flows without effort. Comparisons between their childhoods, a lot of time jumps to avoid unpleasantries. Then there’s crazy dragon stories, discourse on kink-shaming, their most nostalgic holidays—as it turns out, they’re both lacking in that department—goals that they want to achieve after life returns to whatever counts as normal in their world. It’s effortless, how she can confide to him, no offense when her confidence comes out, no shame when her fear is there. 

The two of them, they’re an unforeseen anomaly, one she hadn’t let herself consider with the other Penny, yet now requires further investigation. But that’s dangerous territory. Each time she leans a little closer, and lowers the wards around her heart, done without clash or external appeal, she finds herself wanting more. 

There’s only one thing that’s bugging her, a defense mechanism still deeply ingrained inside of her, a question that keeps popping up in her brain. One thing she hasn’t figured out yet. “Why are you so nice to me?” Alice asks him when they drift back to the penthouse, a detour through alleyways to avoid the hustle and bustle on the main streets. 

Penny chuckles, folds his arms, and leans against the wall at the junction of the alley and mainstreet of the penthouse. “Should I be a dick instead?” 

“You know what I mean.” Alice stops in front of him and moves her hands frantically to explain herself. She’s trying not to make it weird, and failing. “You care. You don’t have to.” 

“Are you fishing for compliments, Alice?” Penny grins. 

“What? No. I just want clarity.” She also leans against the wall, her fingers fidgeting around the edge of her short skirt. 

“On what? Why a person would care about you?” 

“No! It’s, just—You’re _not_ helping,” Alice mumbles as she wades into treacherous waters again, in peril of exposing sentiments that are better kept private. “Won’t you get in trouble with Julia?” 

“For what? This?” Penny steps closer, a finger pointing between their chests. “I’m not a dog on a leash. She doesn’t own me.” 

“But you two, you’re—” Alice sucks in her breath when Penny slants towards her, and his lips hover by her ears. 

“We’re what?” There’s an edge to his voice, as if he’s daring her to push further. 

“Together?” Alice licks her lips, and the flutter of her heart unleashes. 

With the tip of his nose, Penny traces a line down her ear to the curve of her neck, his warm breath dancing on her skin. “Does it look like that?” He presses a soft kiss, and her arms drop next to her figure as her fingers begin to tingle. 

“Yes…”

“You need to clean your glasses more often.” Penny faces her, only inches apart. She’s pinned by his dark eyes, and heat surges to her chest. “Anyway…”—His hand lingers near her waist—“aren’t _you_ with the lame-ass fantasy nerd?” 

“I...” Alice bites her bottom lip, the answer is right there, but she can’t utter it. 

Her stare is trapped between Penny’s eyes and mouth, gravitating closer, a potent appeal. It becomes unbearable, the silence, the distance, their strenuous breaths. 

Penny grips her waist, and she falls on his lips. He’s soft, brushing his full lips over hers, taking his time, kissing her slowly when her fingers wrap around his scarf and clench for more. His tongue slides inside, full of heat and exploration, and she is coated with pleasure that trickles down to her thighs. She hears herself whimper, somehow noticeable over the unrestrained cadence of her falling heart, and she stops herself. “I’m—I, uhm,” she gasps, and averts her gaze, “have to go.” 

She charges for the door of the penthouse around the corner. Instead of the elevator, Alice takes the stairs, an avoidance strategy, because she has messed up. Twenty-three flights of stairs. A small price to pay to put some distance between herself and Penny. 


	5. Rudimentary Needs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alice wants a refund.

By the time Alice has sequestered herself in the confines of her bedroom, she is able to catch her breath. She really needs more training sessions to build her endurance, just not the kind her body is demanding of her at this very minute. She tries to shake off the feeling, because she betrayed Quentin—Quentin who is busying himself day and night with ways to bring back Eliot. 

Unfortunately that comes with the cost of no intimacy with Alice, not for a lack of trying on her part, whether emotional, verbal, or physical. But there’s no space for her. Tears well up in her eyes, torn up over what’s happened, but also over how it happened. She’s had no control over that. Alice has done her best, she’s focused on precarious situations that demanded all her attention, but her heart continues to bleed, to yearn for affection. And she’s not getting any from Quentin. 

Against her will, she found intimacy on an emotional level with Penny, and her cravings went to a forbidden place. 

Her heartbeat is pounding again, now for a different reason. Penny, he knows she’s not available to him like that, yet he has no problem with taking what he wants. She wipes away a tear with the back of her sleeve, and storms into the hallway to his bedroom. 

After three loud knocks on his door, he finally opens. She crosses her arms in front of her chest, and he lets her inside without a word. 

His shirt, cut in revealing places, is annoying, revealing his chest she was pressed up against less than an hourago. Alice squeezes her lips into a fine line, and steps away from him, away from his bed too. 

“Why did you kiss me?” She asks. 

“There’s no answer that’s going to satisfy you, Alice,” Penny says as he opens his arms, making himself vulnerable. There’s no remorse in his voice, no regret over what he’s done. She clenches her jaws together. “I kissed you because I wanted to, plain and simple.” 

“But, why?” 

“What do you mean ‘why’?” Penny tilts his head, and comes closer. Her back presses into his dresser. “Because there’s something here. I feel it every time I come near you. I know you feel it too.” 

Heat flashes through her body, burning up her cheeks. “I’ve a boyfriend.” 

“Yeah, and where is he?” Penny quirks an eyebrow, another pace forward. 

“That doesn’t make it ok.” 

“Well, I wasn’t the only one participating.” His hands are on Alice’s arms, her eyes gloss over. That is theone thing she can’t deny, her own involvement. “He doesn’t give two shits about you, only what he wants.” She pushes against his chest with her wrist, but there’s no force to it. “Too busy saving his boyfriend.” 

A cold shiver runs through her body, and she squeezes her eyes shut. No, that’s not what’s happening with Quentin. It isn’t. He cares. Alice gives Penny another push, this one harder, and she’s deeper in his arms, into his warmth, where she’s wanted, and it’s _so_ good. “Take that back.” Alice says, her tone high and tender. 

“Which part?” He searches for her gaze, for once there’s confusion on his face too. 

“All of it.” She stares into his dark brown eyes, immersed in the vulnerability she finds there, burning for all of his attention. “The kiss, take it back,” she whispers, a tear falls down, and he wipes it away. “Take it back.” She pulls him down with those strings of fabric that qualify as a shirt, the side of her fists rubbing against his pecks, and she tiptoes so their mouths are on each other. 

Her back is forced further against the dresser, one of his hands in her neck, the other on her waist, and Alice is clamoring for more warmth. She's trembling for his touch. It’s different from what she’s used to, different from Quentin. Penny’s moves are deliberate, as if each stroke, each kiss, each lick, is an inspection of her delicate nerves. In her neck, on her collarbone, her wrists, behind her knee, her inner thighs. She tautens each time he finds a new spot. 

Penny sits her down on the dresser, and wedges his figure between her knees, sliding closer. He’s rock-hard. His hips grind against her, a similar rendition of his dance move at the club, and her frenzied arms remove the unnecessary layers around his chest. She’s gawking at him, free to finally admire what he always puts on display, the sight of toned muscles that give definition to his brown skin. Her fingers follow the lines of his body, and he lets her take her time. Soft and firm underneath her touch. 

It isn’t a particular feature that makes Alice so attracted to Penny, there’s his strut, his candor, his maturity, his intensity. But then there’s this right here, his sex eyes and the slight rise and fall of his unshaven chest that push Alice further. 

Next up is her shirt, not a minute later her bra, and her head drops against the wall. Her back arches to give Penny more access to her breasts, hard and sensitive for him. He sucks her in, the heat of his mouth, the slide of his tongue, soothing and maddening all in one. She scrunches her eyebrows together, little huffs and puffs, tension inhabiting her core. 

She yelps when he hoists her from the dresser, and carries her to his bed. After putting her down, her skirt and tights are gone. She kisses him harder, tongues entwined, inhaling his breaths. He feels so good, _so_ right. She bites his neck, and he groans in her ear, raw and unencumbered by shame or doubt. There’s a sharp ache at her core, a burn, longing to be filled. _More_. Her fingers claw at his pants, unfastening his belt, but he grabs her wrists, and presses them down above her head. 

His hand slips underneath her underwear, and he lets out another groan. “You’re soaking,” he says, and her cheeks flush. Two fingers open her up, and glide to her core where he teases her entrance, the palm of his hand against her nub. He asks her questions, what she likes, what she wants, does she want it slower, faster, rougher, circles, flicks, pats. He stares into her eyes, demanding an answer to each one. Then, he observes every reaction, every breath intake, every whimper, every uncontrolled movement of her body, and she’s burning up, feverish because of him. 

Her underwear comes off, and he buries himself between her thighs. He whispers what comes next, giving her mind a preview, words that become tangible. Insistent flicks of his tongue, long sucks with his lips, two fingers that curl and plunge into her with a fast and rough pattern just the way she wants it. Her hands are clenched around his bed sheets. All her pretenses are gone. She’s a sighing, writhing mess, reduced to her most rudimentary needs, begging him not to stop. _Please_. It’s so damn good. He’s exactly what she craves, unrestrained and willful. 

She can’t take it anymore. 

The stress that’s so familiar throughout her body, currently assaulting her core, grows tighter and tighter. Alice cries out, her chest heaving, and her hips lurch forward. Heat erupts, and she’s free. She comes so hard her mind is unable to process the pleasure, drowsy from the indulgence. 

When she catches her breath, Penny is hovering on top of her, darkened eyes, and a satisfied grin on his wet face. His hair tousled from being cramped between her legs. “Take it off,” Alice tells him while she yanks at his belt. He gets off the bed, rummages through his nightstand, and pulls down his pants and boxers. Alice scoots higher on the bed, and he finds her. Their mouths are on each other, her taste on his lips, on hers, wreathing together. She helps him with the condom, taking a moment to feel him bare in her hand first, heavy and firm. 

He spreads her legs open, kisses her softly, asks for permission, and nudges against her entrance. With three upward strokes he’s seated fully inside of her, and he gives her time to adjust to his girth, his body rubbing against hers, fuzzy hairs on his chest, arms and legs that tickle her skin. He starts out with slow, measured thrusts, checks in with her. She kisses him in response, still unable to articulate a coherent response. She’s so sloppy without control. All that matters is this, them, and how sated and full he makes her feel. 

Bites in her neck, soft groans in her ear, his fingers in her hair, and half-lidded eyes that stare into hers, kissing her ever so often when his eyes roll back with pleasure. It’s devastatingly arousing, the impact she has on him, tautening her coils of desire. Her legs are tangled around his, her hands pushing him down. He grinds against her, circular, experienced movements, wet smacks against her ass, going deeper and deeper. Taking his sweet time, optimizing their sweaty conditions, his muscles strain across his stomach and legs, and she’s fluttering. 

Then, he moves faster, her heart thudding harder and harder, hiking up her legs over his shoulders and her breathing with each increasing thrust. Slick and rough. He asks if she likes that, teases her when she can’t respond. She’s whimpering again, pushing her hips up, writhing underneath, and his groans become louder, and louder, and harder until he shudders and falls into her arms. 

He lies down next to her, breathless, and smiling, then pulls the bed linens over them. Alice, still a heaving wreck, covers herself completely, then suppresses a yawn. The effects of their prolonged rapture are turning soporific. She lets out a gratified sigh once her body has calmed down.

With a sigh, Penny takes off the condom, and enters his bathroom. As soon as he returns, he wraps Alice in his arms. “Will you stay the night?” He asks, his words a slow murmur. She snuggles further into his warm, inviting chest, listens to his calm heartbeat, and tries not to think of Quentin.

Not when Penny’s scent and sweat still linger on her. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yikes! Anyway, it's been a long time since I wrote smut, and I'm pleased with this one :)


	6. A Warning Sign

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Penny rejects bacon.

The following morning, Alice slips out of Penny’s arms, gathers her clothing, and tiptoes into her room. Her skirt and shirt are on, but her panties, bra, tights, and shoes are in her hands. It’s enough to be appropriate to cross the hallway, even when nothing about this situation is.

After a quick shower, Alice is in front of the stove, her nails ticking the chrome one by one. A skillet is on medium heat, bacon strips sizzling and turning translucent. She is trying not to think about everything, and the furthest she’s come is telling herself to not think about anything, over and over. She picks up the tongs, turns the bacon, then lets it fry to her satisfaction. Extra crispy. 

Repeating that to herself at least detracts from the other voice in her head that reminds her of what a horrible girlfriend she is. She’s betrayed Quentin in the worst way imaginable, after he has finally forgiven her for aiding the Library. Well, he claims to have forgiven her, but their last conversation highlighted some resentment he’s clearly still holding on to, or letting out because she’s not going along with everything he wants. But she’s not a doormat, not even under these circumstances. Killing Gods is wrong. But she’s at fault too; what she’s doing is _very_ wrong.

Alice tears a strip of bacon between her teeth, and chews with haste. One strip, two strips. A third. The smokiness lingers in her mouth, and she swallows it down. Eyes closed, head bobbing from left to right, sighing to herself. 

When Penny enters the kitchen, her eyes fly open, and flutters erupt in the pit of her stomach. “Morning,” Alice mumbles and cleans her fingers in a tissue. 

He saunters around the island, unperturbed, a potency in his shoulders, and plants a kiss on her lips. 

She totters away from him, a hand on the marble countertop to keep her steady. “What are you doing?” Her heart is in her throat, the voices in her head erratic and uncontrollable, telling her she needs to stop, that she’s horrible, that she needs to leave. But her legs are firmly rooted on the spot. 

Penny crunches his forehead, and rubs his neck. “What does it look like?” 

“Anyone could walk in and see us.” Alice looks at the open floor plan, the hallway on the left that leads to their bedrooms, the circular staircase that leads to the second floor. Not a soul in sight. 

“Please, no one wakes up before six thirty.” Penny squints his eyes, then steps closer. “Just you.” 

Alice slants toward him. “And you…”

“I’ve a good reason to.” He bends down, and presses his lips on hers once more. Another soft kiss, and when he lingers, she returns the favor. His arms slink around her waist while his mouth follows the line of her jaw with little pecks, the stubble of his beard tickling her skin. She bites her bottom lip to push away the giddy feeling, when her brain is telling her the opposite, and moves to the coffee maker. “So, why’d you sneak out?” 

She turns her back to him, and pours coffee in two mugs to give herself time to consider her answer. He may not care about hurting Quentin’s feelings, but she does. That’s not even considering her own behavior—anomalous and ardent when she’s trying to be a better person. She’s a hypocrite. A cheater, and a hypocrite. She hands Penny one of the mugs, and sips on her own. “I needed to shower.” 

He gives her a pointed look, but doesn’t say anything, just takes a big gulp from the coffee. “Well, I’ve worked up an appetite.” 

“There’s bacon.”

His gaze sets on the skillet on the stove. He shakes his head, and opens a cupboard. “Nah. How about pancakes?” 

Alice has never tried bacon with pancakes. A gambit, a little weird, perhaps, but worth endeavoring. She helps him prepare the dish, sharing slow smiles and residual tension from the night before, from the kiss minutes ago. 

Flutters in her body that feel like a warning sign. 

She’s deep in dangerous territory, and she keeps digging deeper. 

A body without control. It’s terrifying what it does to her. 

To Alice’s relief, Kady enters from the hallway when the pancakes are almost done, and opens the door to Pete. They sit at countertop, and munch on fresh fruits, bacon, and fluffy pancakes while discussing their plan to help the hedges with ambient. Alice listens, anything to take her mind off her thoughts, and Penny heads to the study—probably to help Julia with her missing binder. Alice watches him until he’s out of sight, chomping on a strip of crispy bacon, then offers Kady and Pete to check in with Sheila to see if Alice can help them with their piping problems. Alice still needs to talk to Sheila, anyway. She needs to convince her that the Library isn’t good for her.

But then the necessary leverage materializes in their living room mirror: Harriet Schiff. Together with Kady, Alice negotiates a new deal with Zelda. The nearest pipe junction box with ambient for the hedges in return for mending a fragmented Harriet. Everything falls apart quickly after that, in the most literal sense. Alice accidentally fractures herself, and imprisons her most egotistical and overbearing self in the mirror world to keep herself from making more mistakes and ruining her life further. But it isn’t her arrogance that has led to her most recent series of stupid decisions, it’s her fear. She was afraid of the influence of magic on herself, and the lengths she went in her quest of knowledge. She’s afraid of the full scope of her abilities, still unmet. She’s afraid of losing the best thing that’s ever happened to her. Quentin. But, most of all, Alice is afraid to acknowledge that he’s not. 

In the aftermath of breaking up and reconciling with herself, Alice can’t endure that whole cycle again. She pushes away thoughts of Quentin, but when she enters the penthouse he’s seated on the dark sofa in the living room. Unavoidable. Exhaustion settles in her bones as she drags herself towards him. 

She drops her heavy bag on the floor, and stands behind the sofa. When he notices her, he puts his books away. He looks the way she feels. Excluding the ugly words she’s used on herself earlier today. Mistakes that she will own. But not tonight, she needs to rest first. 

Quentin rubs his eye and suppresses a yawn. “Where’ve you been?” 

“Brakebills. I helped Kady.” Alice puts a hand in front of her mouth as she yawns. “How’s your day been?” 

“I think we’ve made some headway,” Quentin says, and there’s more energy in the tone of his voice than she’s heard in days. Headway towards saving Eliot, towards whatever that may mean for them if what Penny said is true—if Eliot is more to Quentin than he leads on. 

The shift in their relationship doesn’t require a big jump. Quentin did sleep with Eliot and Margo in their first year at Brakebills, when they were babies, and the worst of their problems was a common enemy. Different year, still the end of the world. They’ve come so far, yet remained in a strikingly similar situation. Fixing and fucking up, an ongoing cycle. Quentin and Eliot could’ve happened somewhere in between all that. When Alice was a niffin. When Alice was working with the library. Perhaps when he was with Alice. 

It could’ve happened, and now it’s all she can think about when she looks at Quentin. He catches her eye, and he continues: “23, he went into the monster’s mind, and we’ve learned more about what he wants.” 

Alice stares at her bag, guilt weighing on her. “Is Penny alright?” 

“He had a seizure, but he’s fine now, I think. He’s sleeping it off.” 

Her head snaps up. “He’s _sleeping it off_?” Alice yanks her heavy bag over her shoulder, and rushes to Penny’s room before Quentin can respond. She knocks on his door. No sound. Quentin appears in her periphery. 

He stands at the entrance of the hallway. “He’ll be fine. We spoke to him earlier.” 

“I’m just going to check. Goodnight.” Alice waits for Quentin to leave, which he does with reluctance, then she tries the door handle. It opens in one go. No wards. Her chest tightens. 

All the lamps are turned off inside Penny’s room, but she can make out his silhouette on the bed. The curtains are drawn open. Specks of lights from high rise buildings shimmer in the distance. She places her bag softly in front of the closed door and tiptoes to the side of his bed where she sits down. 

His head is resting on the pillow, his face in repose, as if nothing bad has happened. Still, a seizure shouldn’t be taken lightly. “Penny? Please wake up,” Alice says, and her clammy fingers graze his chest, she feels for a heartbeat. Steady, but her mind isn’t appeased. Her fingers become more insistent. “You need to wake up.” 

“Ok, alright.” Penny stirs and opens his eyes, unfocused until his gaze lands on her. He tries to sit up, but she stops him. “Hey… what’s wrong?” 

Some of the tightness in her chest dissipates. “Nothing. I-I, just, I was afraid that—Quentin said you had a seizure, and I don’t. I just need you to be ok.” 

“I am. I’m good.” He sits up anyway, and his hand disappears in her hair. She leans into the touch. “Just tired. It’s been a long day.” He pecks her on the lips, then watches her with wide, thoughtful eyes. “Come here.” Penny pats the space that’s available next to him on the bed. 

Alice swallows, and contemplates her actions. How far is she letting this go without putting a stop to it? The alleviation of her worries at his well-being are an overt indication of the danger she’s in. But she doesn’t want to deny Penny, she doesn’t want to deny herself, not even in these circumstances. Not when he’s looking at her with longing in his eyes for something that isn’t… sexual. She gets up, removes her shoes, and slips in bed with him. Alice lowers the blanket to his hips, and checks for bruises on his face, head, arms, chest. “Do you have any injuries? Are you in pain?” 

He’s grinning as she undertakes her inspection, and she wants to roll her eyes, but then he says: “I just had a nosebleed, but it’s better now.” 

“Maybe you should go see Lipson tomorrow?” She gently touches his nose.

Penny removes her hand, and squeezes it, a small smile on his lips. “Sure, I will.” 

Alice slacks her shoulders. There’s nothing else she can do now except for checking at irregular intervals that he’s still breathing. Her head is heavy on his pillow, and her eyes are burning with exhaustion. 

Penny switches on the lamp on his nightstand, and wraps her in his arms. “How did it go with Kady? Managed to seal the deal?” He asks, and Alice bobs her head, her eyes closing. With the unpredictable hustle and bustle of each new day, Alice ages a whole year. But she can hear Penny smiling. “Course you did.” 

He tucks away a hair behind her ear, and her glasses move. She puts them on the nightstand, and wrinkles her nose. “We’re one step closer to the revolution.” 

“You know, that’s really sexy. If I weren’t too tired then I’d be—” Alice snorts, and he shuts her up with a kiss. It’s annoyingly effective. “So, what’s the next step?” 

“We’re waiting on Zelda to make good on her word.” Alice taps a finger on his chest, then follows the lines of his body. “We obtain ambient. Then we can track the Library’s entire magic infrastructure and find weak spots.” 

He contracts his muscles when she reaches his belly button. “To manipulate?” 

“Or destroy,” Alice adds. She relaxes her finger, and finds him staring intently into her eyes. She opens her mouth to speak, but he’s faster than her.

“And you’re doing alright?” He asks. 

There’s a warmth in her chest. In spite of her disapproving thoughts or the guilt that’s eating away at her, she smiles. “Better than you from the look of it.” 

“I’m very handsome, so I’ve no idea what that’s supposed to mean,” Penny says, his dark eyes fixed on hers. He’s joking, but the expression on his face is severe. Alice presses a kiss to his lips, and he holds her closer. “Are you staying the night?” 

She doesn’t need to think it through. She nods, and he caresses her cheek. He adds: “You’re welcome to use my shower this time.” 

“I won’t sneak out,” Alice murmurs.

“Good, because I’m a big fan of morning sex.” 


	7. Another One Bites The Dust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alice drinks whisky.

As promised, Alice doesn’t sneak out of bed, and Penny makes good on his intentions too. Taking his time with her, he guides her to the brink of ecstacy until she’s finally ready to relinquish all her restraint to the sway of his hand. And then some. She’s still wobbling on her legs when she enters the living room to give Julia the Binder she’s been looking for. It was in the Mirror World, and Alice had taken it with her after she put herself together again. The conversation is a little awkward, especially after Alice abruptly told Julia she wasn’t going to meddle in Quentin’s matters, since he doesn’t want her help. But both Alice and Julia make an effort to remain cordial, well-wishes are exchanged. Julia returns to the study, where Penny and Quentin are encircled by opened books, and Alice glances between them. All she can see of Quentin is his back. It doesn’t hurt this time, his lack of interest. Penny cocks his head back when their eyes meet. Alice waves, then drops her hand, her eyes jumping from Penny to Julia, to Quentin, to anywhere but the study. 

She takes a seat at the dining table, to be as far away from them as possible, and checks on the development of the ambient piping outline. Figures appear on the wooden table. At least with this, the dividing lines are clear, no emotions to blur right from wrong, and Alice knows what the hell she’s doing. Together with Kady and Pete, she has bugged the Library’s pipes with a beetle with McCormick’s tracer. The results are astounding—though certainly not a surprise. 

Kady storms into the living room from her bedroom, and her head snaps back and forth from the study to the dining area. She calls for Penny, and they talk in hushed voices by the front door. Alice can’t make out the words, but Kady’s face is drawn tight, her arms crossed. Nothing good, Alice surmises. Kady’s eyes land on Alice a few times, and she begins to worry. Penny takes his time to respond to Kady, and she’s out, the door slamming behind her. Alice rises from her chair, fearing the worst. 

“What’s wrong?” She asks after Penny stands still in front of her. 

He pinches the bridge of his nose with closed eyes. “She knows.” 

“What! How?” Alice says with a shrill voice, then peeks at the study. Quentin and Julia are talking to each other, none the wiser. She hopes. 

“She heard you, apparently.” 

“Oh my God.” Alice brings her hands to her face, heat burning in her neck. This can’t be happening. This isn’t supposed to happen. Not now. It’s not the right time. 

Penny raises his shoulders, and he reaches for her. “So, we’ll use a silencing spell next time.” 

Alice steps away from him, and mumbles: “That doesn’t change any—”

“She’s not going to tell anyone.” He crosses his arms in front his chest. 

“She’s not? Why not?” 

“Because I told her it’s none of her fucking business.” He gives her a hardened look, eyes scrutinizing her intently, then averts his gaze. “I’ve got to get back to figuring out who Enyalius is.” 

He leaves her to her disquieting thoughts, and Alice plops on the chair. There’s an incessant throb in her heart. Penny is back in the study, face glued to a book, and anger twists inside of her at how easily he just goes back to what he’s doing. She doesn’t get to be angry at him, she knows that, but she’s no longer pretending like she has control over her emotions. She really doesn’t. Alice mutters to herself, and turns back to the map, to the numbers, to the information. To the one thing she has a handle on. She releases a breath, then tuts her fingers in a geometric pattern and a few figures change color on the wooden table. _Oh, no_. Alice double checks the data. Triple checks. This doesn’t add up. She texts Kady and Pete. She really doesn’t want to talk to Kady right now, but a rebellion waits for no one. 

“What? I’m here.” Kady drops the groceries on the kitchen island, and stomps to the dining area. 

“We need to talk,” Alice says. 

“He told you?” She quirks a brow, eyes drifting to the study. “We don’t need to talk about it.” 

“Look, Kady, I—” 

“It’s none of my business.” 

“It’s not, but—” 

Kady drops her arms, but everything about her remains as hostile. “Let’s leave it at that. Because you don’t want my opinion, so you better not have texted me for it.” 

“I didn’t. If you’d let me get a word in,” Alice snaps, and Kady shrugs, then waits for Alice to continue. “It’s the beetle, we lost it as soon as it left Earth.”

Pete remains a no-show, so they contact Zelda and lay out the facts. The Library is corrupt, lying about its ambient output, and nobody cares that the hedge witches pay the price for it. Zelda’s eyes glisten with disbelief when she hears the truth, and Alice softens her opinion of her. It’s hard to come to terms with the fact that everything you ever believed in… might be false. Unequivocally is, in this case. They’re one step closer to taking the Library down. By the time Zelda leaves, Alice and Kady are preemptively celebrating their successful conversion of Zelda into their mole. 

But it doesn’t last long. Julia, Quentin and Penny return to the penthouse, shaken and slightly the worse for wear. 

“What happened?” Alice takes a step towards them, then stops herself. 

Quentin stares through her, his eyes small and empty. “Enyalius… is dead.” 

“The asshole forgot his password,” Penny says, and removes his jacket. 

Kady’s face twists in a mixture of annoyance and confusion. “What?” 

“His heart got ripped out,” Julia says, and gives her coat to Penny, which he also puts away. Alice follows the established intimacy between them, and shoves her hands in the pockets of her skirt. 

“Another one bites the dust.” Penny pours water into a glass, his gaze wandering toward Alice, and Julia grabs a bottle of wine and whisky. Quentin, unlike the two of them, hasn’t moved or said a word yet. Alice nears him, and she tugs his arm. 

“Shit. Well, we’re eating enchiladas.” Kady grumbles behind her. “And it’s not cooking itself.” 

“Hi,” Alice says, and he kisses her hello. She freezes, all too aware of prying eyes. One set in particular. Quentin is trembling, and Alice feels herself being pulled at both ends. But she keeps her back to Penny. “Are you okay?” Alice asks Quentin. 

“Yes. No. I don’t know.” His shoulders sag, hair falling in his eyes, the color drained from his face. “We can’t catch a break.” 

Alice glances back at the kitchen island. Kady and Penny are slowly gathering the ingredients for dinner while Julia pours the drinks. There’s a rigidity in Penny’s figure that wasn’t there a second ago. “Some food and a good night’s rest might help.” 

“Sure. Whatever. I’m, just, I’m going to sit here.” Quentin points to the staircase. 

“I’ll join—”

“No, I just need a minute.”

She swallows down the sting of dismissal, and leaves him to himself. Her mouth is dry and her thoughts so loud, full of frustration and confusion that she needs to bite down, so she takes the whisky Julia is offering. Among the four of them, Quentin sequestered to the stairs, food is served with ease. It’s a stagnant dinner, nobody has energy or desire to make smalltalk. Julia is still trying with Quentin, trying to connect with him, but he’s withdrawn from her too. This isn’t the first time Julia’s dealt with this side of Quentin, she was sure to let Alice know that, yet she seems just as lost. 

One by one, they all retreat to their bedrooms save Penny and herself. They’re still seated on the high chairs, nipping on their drinks, their thoughts unspoken, arms grazing against one another. The hushed hours before dawn, which she’ll once more choose to spend with him. They’ve not talked at all since their conversation earlier today, but she’s been watching him, and he’s been observing her, the indignation visible, from across the room to right next to each other. 

She’s taken a risk with him. Alice is following her heart instead of her brain. And, yes, it hurts a lot to be this person, but it also feels unbelievably good in a way she hasn’t experienced before. She feels better than she’s felt in a really long time. The sum of being with Penny exceeds the destructive parts. She’ll have to tell Quentin the truth. She owes him that much, and she owes it to Penny too. He hasn’t said anything, but it’s there in his eyes, in his body. For as much as he can see right through her, she’s understanding him better too. 

But how do you break a heart when it’s already hurting? Not too long ago, it was hers on the line when Quentin was cruel and unforgiving to her. How could she do that to him? Stalling only makes it worse, makes her worse, and still… she’s afraid to rip off the bandaid. 

Alice sighs, and leans her head on Penny’s shoulder. “I’m sorry,” she says, and he brushes his fingers through her hair until she faces him. She leans towards him, his mouth only inches apart. The tangle of fingers and thoughts that fogs her brain. 

His hand drops to the small of her back, spinning circles underneath the trim of her shirt. “Look, I don’t want to pressure you, but—”

A loud bang comes from behind them, and Alice jumps back, out of the chair, away from Penny. Margo shuts the clock door behind her, and stomps towards the light, towards them. “I’m in need of a bath, two batteries, and a stiff drink.” She dumps a bag with brown bottles and two axes on the marble, and takes Penny’s glass of whisky out of his hand. “This’ll do.” She throws it back, then smiles at them. 

“Uhh, hi,” Alice says. 

“Ugh. It’s night here? Great.” Margo sighs dramatically. “These time rules change as often as a prostitute swaps their panties on a Sunday.” 

“Right. There’s still some enchiladas if you’re hungry.” Penny points at the food behind her.

“Hungry, hm?” Margo grabs a plate, heats an enchilada in the microwave, and glances back at them over her shoulders. Judgement drips down. “Were you two about to… _eat_?” 

Alice frowns. “What?”

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m not good with subtlety. Let me try again.” Margo clears her throat, and shakes her arms, as if she’s an actress who is about to give a performance on camera. She leans on the marble countertop, and pouts. “I’m hurt, Alice. If you were going to get payback, I would’ve volunteered. We could’ve shown Quentin what it’s like when competitors become allies.” 

“What are you talking about?” Penny asks. 

“Nothing.” Alice sucks in her cheeks, a fixed stare at Margo. 

Margo lifts her hand, her thumb and index finger drawing together, referring to the size of — “Small, minor, insignificant things.”

The microwave beeps. “You’re a terrible friend,” Alice says with a harsh voice, and Margo gasps. Penny, on the other hand, is fighting a smile. 

“I’m joking, you bore. Grow a clit, would ya.” Margo rolls her eyes, and grabs her heated plate, and heads to the staircase. “Anyway, call me what you want, I’m not the two-timing scumbag.”

Alice clenches her teeth. 


	8. Your Dirty Secret

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Penny uses his fingers.

“Can you slow down?” Penny asks while Alice paces in the kitchen. She can’t. She can’t rid herself of the judgement as shame takes hold of her mind, and digs through her treacherous, duplicitous actions to establish how guilty she is of being a horrible person. “Hold on.” Penny takes her hand, and she’s transported to the rooftop of their building with the blink of an eye. 

She stops pacing. The stars are out tonight, sparkling dots in an otherwise black sky. Noises of an awake city from underneath. The wind is still warm for the time of the year. Another beautiful sight he’s taken her to, if only she could fully appreciate it. Alice sits on the ledge of the roof. “I-I don’t know what I’m doing anymore. Margo is right. I’m a scumbag.” 

“She’s not a saint either. Who cares what she thinks.” Penny is by her side, and takes a look at the long way down before he joins her on the ledge. 

Her hand is fidgeting with her skirt, searching for purchase, something to help her anchor the mess she’s made of her life, again. Lies and illusions don’t make a firm foundation. “I do. It matters. I can’t just—I don’t want to hurt Quentin.” 

Penny groans, blows out some air, then holds her hands. He gazes into her eyes. “Tell him the truth, or just dump him. I don’t care. But I’m no longer playing second fiddle to that jackass.” 

There’s that pull again, jerking her back and forth, to test her loyalty between the two men in her life. “It’s not that easy, Penny.” 

“ _Seriously_?” He gets up, and shakes his head. 

Alice walks up to him immediately, her throat closing up, her vision blurring when she discerns Penny’s stiff posture. “It’s, just, he’s already in a bad place. His father died, Eliot is possessed, and I-I don’t want to pour on top of that by breaking up with him.”

“I get that. But I’m not your dirty secret.” 

Penny’s words sting her eyes, and tears roll down. She hugs herself. “I’m afraid, okay. He’s not thinking straight. He’s putting everything on the line to save Eliot, and I’m afraid of what he’ll do when we fall apart too.” 

“As fucked up as that is, you’re not responsible for his sanity.” 

“But I shouldn’t be making it worse,” Alice yelps. 

He closes the distance between them, and the undercurrent of yearning and compunction thickens in her chest. “You are. There’s no way around that. Crying over it changes nothing.” Penny wipes away her tears, his fingers tangling her thoughts. “We’ve been doing this dance for a while now, even before I had you in my bed. And in the shower. And on the dresser.” His voice deepens, and she sucks in her breath, her lips parted. The human heart doesn’t always do what society has made conventional. It’s a lesson she’s learned, mistakes she’s had to make. “Cut the cord.” 

“I will. I messed up.” Alice gives a firm nod while she holds his hand. “I’ll talk to him tomorrow. Okay?” 

“Do that. Now I’m done talking about and protecting his feelings,” Penny says after a deep breath, but then he continues: “I do that enough by not ending that monster’s life to begin with. We’re jeopardizing more and more lives, gods and humans alike, including our own. Every fucking day. Just because Quentin decided we’re all worth the gamble, because he’s sad and hurting. Guess what, so are the rest of us.” 

“I know. I’m sorry.” 

Penny cracks his neck, and rolls back his shoulders. “I don’t need apologies, Alice.”

“I’ll talk to him tomorrow,” Alice repeats, on the tips of her toes, her fingers on his strained jaws, and she kisses him slowly. 

A second later they’re in Penny’s room where they spend the rest of the night in his bed, limbs steering and thrusting, their words unraveling, each slumberous moment fraught with slow kisses, persisting whimpers, and uneven exhalations. 

Their morning is slow. Alice spends most of it in his bed, with a book in her hands, away from Margo and her accusative glances. The sun’s comfortable reflection dances on her skin. “What are you reading?” Penny asks after sitting down beside her, and taking off his boots.

“A book.” 

He lifts his eyebrow, and puts a takeaway bag between their bodies. “I can see that, wise-ass.” 

Alice shows him the cover. “Its called _Colloquial Hindi: The Complete Course For Beginners_.” After a bleak period without her scholarly comforts, Alice has found the incentive to read again, and she wants to do something useful with it. 

“Wow,” he says, and his mouth curves into a smile. “You’ll speak it better than me in no time.” 

He’s impressed with her, she can tell, and it makes warmth rush to her cheeks. Alice closes the book. “It seems a little outdated.” 

“Tsk, already evaluating, huh.” Penny leans on his elbow, and stares into her eyes, his smile still present. “Say something in Hindi then.” 

She knits her brows, glances at the takeaway bag, and tries to formulate the simplest sentence in her head to ask for its content. “Uhh, aaj kya lae hai?” 

“Aapka sabse pasandeeda.” 

“What does that mean?” 

“Your favorite.” Penny shows her a box with extra crispy bacon strips, and a green smoothie. She reaches for it immediately. “We should watch some Bollywood movies to practice your new language skills.” 

Alice nods, and takes a sip of the smoothie. “I’d like that.” 

“But for today, I think you should eat your breakfast, then go take a shower, because… you’re kinda ripe.” Penny waves a hand in front of his nose, and Alice gasps. He grins. “Then, I can take you to this mountain ridge in Norway.” 

“That’s rude.” 

“To my nostrils.” He laughs, and kisses her when she ignores him. 

But she finishes her breakfast, then does take that shower. Seconds later she’s with him on a rocky mountain ridge, surrounded by calming blue waters, and a summery sky. Another moment to themselves, a moment to breathe, before they have to return to fixing world problems, taking down authoritarian institutions, and stopping immature monsters. All in a day’s work. 

Margo’s unexpected return to the penthouse controls the attention of everyone. Still, Alice senses their eyes on her, observing her movements, examining the finite space between her and Penny, judging her actions. Everyone but Quentin. After Margo retells her delirious desert hero’s journey for the fourth time,much to her annoyance, plans of stopping the monster with her axes—Sorrow and Sorrow, no points for originality—are discussed. Alice suggests casting an incorporate bond on Margo’s spirit-bottles, which results in a trip to Brakebills South. 

Penny drops her and Quentin off with a pointed look. Now is as good a time as any to have the conversation with Quentin, she thinks with a heavy heart. No more excuses. Except that he isn’t listening. Then, there’s Mayakosvky, who has swapped his present consciousness with one from a different time—a timeshare spell—so they’ve to do a time travel spell of their own. Quentin goes into his past-self, and his past-self goes into Quentin. 

Alice hasn’t thought this through. He, Quentin from their first year, is still unencumbered by the toiling suffering ahead of them. There’s a lightheartedness to him that makes her ache for everything that she’s lost. Even his movements are different, more carefree. He babbles about his mundane thoughts, complains about Mayakovsky’s cruelty, he sniggers, and easily shows her affection through words and kisses. A sweet, willing, believer. She aches. A kind-hearted soul who just wants to mean something to someone. And he has. For so long Quentin was the most important person in her life. So when he kisses her she lets herself get wrapped up in it, in his loving arms instead of cold and detached ones. 

But it doesn’t last long. Quentin returns to his body, and everything changes. 

They sit for awhile in their old classroom at Brakebills South, and he opens up to her like he hasn’t for months. He tells her about his discipline, the one Mayakovsky assigned him to after years of not knowing. Minor mendings. It’s fitting, Alice thinks, because he had always restored what she was missing. There is true power in the small stuff, the little things, which she longs for so much. 

He’s still talking to her when they return to the penthouse, and she still hasn’t told him the truth, so she follows him into his bedroom. He gives her the repaired mug from Brakebills, and it’s as good as new. Still functioning. 

She’s turning the mug around in her hand when Quentin stands in front of her. There’s a line on his forehead, thoughts popping in. She waits for him to speak. He glances away from her, before meeting her eyes, his tinged with sadness. “When we first met, I was clinging on to some naive, idealistic notions of what the world should be. How people should be. And I think that I’ve realized, if I just throw away all that childish bullshit, I can forgive people for not living up to my stupid expectations.”

It’s good to be able to communicate with him again, but his explanation hurts, because he’s talking about parts of him that she fell in love with. “Like yourself?” Alice asks, and he avoids her gaze again, a somber smile appears on his face. 

“How did we get so distant, Vix?” Quentin takes her hand, and she looks down. Her eyes water at the mention of his nickname for her. Their hands still fit, as if nothing has changed, as if she hasn’t been lying to the one person she always thought she’d be honest with. “You’re right here, and yet there’s so much between us. How’d that happen?” 

She furrows her brows, “We stopped trying, perhaps.” 

“I guess I’m guilty of that,” Quentin says. “I think I was holding onto how we were, how I still wanted you and I to be, instead of allowing us to change into a new us. It was unfair of me. I’m sorry.” 

“I’m sorry too.” Alice bites her lip. It’s right there. She needs to tell him the truth, but he’s not been this vulnerable with her in weeks. But still, she has to—

He steps closer, his voice shaking. “Could we try again?” 

“What about Eliot?” 

“What about him?” 

Her lip trembles. She doesn’t know how to bring that up, because she fears the truth. She’s not certain she can take his rejection again after everything. “I, uhh, I thought that you and—”

“I’m with _you_ , aren’t I?” Quentin tries again, leaning closer. “What if we tried again? Actually tried? I want you in my life, Alice.” 

Alice hesitates, but bobs her head as she contemplates her situation. He kisses her, the thoughts won’t leave. It’s everything she’s wanted to hear for so long. There’s still so much between them, years worth of history. Nights spent together researching, conversations that took them all over the world, and into others, without having to travel, wistful notions that they’d last through whatever came their way. Quentin makes a dreamer out of her when all she’s known is heartache. Perhaps, now that they’re both trying, they could be new too. Maybe they could still function. 

She’s waited for this moment for weeks. No, for months. Before he had taken her back. His touch is still comfortable on her body, tracing the route to connection, fumbling along the way, consumed by their urges as he buries himself inside of her. 

For a moment, Alice allows herself to give into wishful thinking, but she can’t rid herself of the heavy weight on her chest, smothering her noises, and reducing her to tears. He’s staring at her with sleepy eyes, and she averts her gaze. She doesn’t know how to do this again with Quentin, even if the procedure is familiar enough for their bodies. It’s not for her mind. It’s not for her heart.

Not when she’s already found something different with Penny. 

Alice is a mess. She’s fresh wounds, cut deep, bleeding out, because of her own lapse of judgement. There’s no one else to blame for the pain she causes, and for the fear she hides behind. Her life is starting to become a pattern of sneaking out of men’s rooms. In this case it’s out of her boyfriend’s room, at the crack of dawn, to avoid both Quentin and Penny, because she doesn’t know what to do about either of them. 

For a little while, she manages to stay out of their way. She showers, tears spilling down her face, and the warm water soothing the tension in her hunched shoulders. She goes outside for breakfast, spends the afternoon by herself in the restricted section of the MET, the one intended for ambient-users, and when she’s back at the penthouse, things have gone to shit. Julia has been monster-napped, Quentin and Penny discover the Secret Sea, Fen returns with fish-Josh, and Margo tries to fix that. 

A lot is going on, all at once, all of a sudden. Their circumstances are barreled forward, like the ending of a badly paced book. Alice retreats to her room, needing a minute to process everything else that’s happened. But there’s a knock on the door that stops her thoughts. 

Penny is standing in her doorway, and crosses his arms. “There you are,” he says. 

She still hasn’t made up her mind, but she can’t have it all. Alice moves to her curtains, heavy and dark ones with a lacey one underneath, as Penny enters her room and shuts the door behind him. She pulls the sheer curtains closed, the harsh sunlight like a mother’s glare now abated, and faces him.

He approaches her desk, and glances at the mess she’s made of it. Stacks of books, chaotic thoughts scribbled down in her notebook, herbs and sigils for the right spell. “I’ve been looking for you.” 

“Things have been crazy,” Alice says, and collects her notes to store it in her drawer. “How did it go in Fillory?” 

“Fine. Did you talk to him?” 

Tears prick at her eyes once more. “We talked but—”

“You weren’t in your room last night.” Penny obstructs her hand, and she drops the notes on the desk. He bends slightly, his eyes holding hers. “Were you with him?”

“Yes,” Alice says. Her voice sounds strange, a frail rustle, even to her own ears. 

Penny sucks in his breath as his posture goes rigid in front of her. She’s going to lose him. He lets out a chuckle, a pained edge to it. “So, what? He invites you back into his bed, and that’s it?” He states with a sneer. Alice darts her head from side to side, but he doesn’t let her speak. “All I was good for was a temporary fuck, to keep you warm at night, until he could stand to look at you again?” 

The words sting, but not as much as the wounded expression on his face, pleading to prove him wrong. “It’s not—it’s not like that, Penny.” Alice says and reaches for his arms, but he shrugs her off. “I-I don’t know what I’m doing. Okay.” 

“Yeah, that’s _fucking_ great.” He takes another step back. 

She’s spiraling, no longer in dangerous territory, but a trapped animal in a cage of her own making, unable to claw her way out. “I can’t just give up on him. We’ve been part of each other’s lives for—for years. I can’t just—I can’t give up on that.” 

“Don’t expect me to stick around.” Penny stares at the door. 

“I know.” Alice sobs, her voice twisting further at the confirmation that she’s really losing him because of her indecision and deceit. She deserves it, for warping into a person she barely recognizes. “God. I-I’m sorry, Penny. I’m so—” 

“ _Fuck that_. I don’t want your shitty apologies,” Penny says, whirls around, and mounts her between his arms on the desk. She’s caught off guard, and gasps, her hands landing on his chest. He’s stiff underneath her touch, pumping out shallow breaths. His dark eyes stare quietly at her, smoldering with fervor like she’s never seen before. “He's not going to give you what you want, what you truly _need_.” Warm fingers slink between her knees, and crawl up her inner thighs. “Just tell me, does he touch you like I do? Does he make you burn?”

“Shut up.” Alice parts her lips, and her hands fist in his shirt as flames surge to her heart.

“Does he make you cry out his name?” Penny demands, and spreads his hand over her heat, a scant layer of satin and her weak mind the only obstacles in his way. He breaks the skin in her neck with his teeth, and she fights a moan deep in her throat. But her back arches anyway, betraying herself by answering the question for him. His fingers slip underneath the satin, and he rubs her. No build up, just pressure, then bites again. She whimpers, and yanks him closer. “Does he make you beg for more? Does he?” 

“Ahh. _Shut up._ ” 

His arm slithers around her and he pushes her knees apart with his hips, a finger sliding inside of her core. She’s throbbing for him, slick and dire as he soothes her, a painful divergence from what she experienced the night before. God, she needs him. Beyond this madness, she longs for the intimacy of his vulnerability, his consideration, as well as his physicality. He’s right, and she knows it, but she can’t just throw away years of history. Penny licks his way up her neck, his finger thrusting harder, and whispers roughly in her ear: “When he’s inside of you, and your eyes are closed, is it his face that you see, or mine?” Alice cries out, every whimper tinged with shame as words fail her. 

“Shh— _Ohh_.” 

“Is he even seeing yours?” Penny retracts his hand, his body heaving between her legs. And his words sear—as if he’s slapped her across the face. 

She pushes him away, and climbs off her desk, adjusting her underwear. “You’re such an asshole.” Alice snarls, but her wobbling chin unmasks the hurt. 

“Right. _I’m_ the asshole.” Penny raises his hands in front of him, and steps further away from her, towards her door. “Take a look in the fucking mirror.”


	9. Too Little, Too Late

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alice hates on fantasy books.

Alice could have handled that better. She’s not at her best when acting on impulses, especially not when it concerns her passions. Time, diversion, and introspection is the more suited system to form a fair and sensible response. Though it rarely works out that way. This, the plight of madness she’s created, is _not_ it. She wants to get back at Penny, and scream in his face, bite his head off, and rip him to pieces for toying with her the way he did. She’s already a hypocrite, so it would only be the next step in her descent into chaos. But she’s not that dramatic, not on purpose. Fortunately Alice still has some sense, enough to stop her defensive impulses, to stop him from getting under her skin. 

Besides, he isn’t wrong. She is an asshole. 

But there’s no time to think about that, though not for lack of trying. Kady and Zelda have returned from the Poison Room, together with an unwelcome visitor, blood Alice thought she had on her hands. Christopher Plover. A possible lead. His depraved mind is full of knowledge on Fillory that distinguishes fact from fiction. They must visit The Drowned Garden to find an antidote to the spell cast on The Secret Sea. Alice inwardly groans at the hackneyed descriptors of locations and objects, but she keeps her mouth shut. She’s not risking the infliction of more sorrow by her doing. 

Plover, Quentin, Penny and Alice travel to Fillory. Penny barely talks to her, barely talks to anyone, but he’s still there, doing what must be done. As is she. She tries to talk Quentin into believing in magic, in Fillory, in himself, the way she talked herself into it the night before. There’s truth to her words, she’s tired of lying, she does believe that the world can be seen through new eyes as adults—unfortunately it doesn’t apply to her and Quentin. Not anymore. 

Quentin makes the flower bloom, and they get the antidote. 

It’s the only thing that goes according to plan. 

The Secret Sea has been dessicated, the magic in the water that they need to stop _everything_ is no longer available to them. They expel the Monster’s Sister out of Julia’s body, but she’s in agonizing pain in the hospital. And Quentin and Alice use the device in Fogg’s desk to slow down the Sister. They get some respite from the Monster and its Sister, and it’s horrible. Margo is raging. Julia is a non-magician human, without choosing it. Alice still hasn’t talked to either Quentin or Penny. Josh is back to his usual self. Fen is gone. Everett wants to be a God. The only silver lining is that Kady is no longer suicidal. 

A mixed bag, or simply another day in the life of the magically gifted and emotionally challenged. 

The day to themselves is enough to form a plan. Quentin and Josh figure out the element of surprise, and as a ensemble they settle on cooperative magic as their attack. A spell performed by any ambient-user across the worlds to fuel enough magic to do the Bond. It’s an ambitious operation, unheard of at this level, and although extremely risky, it’s one worth exploring. Alice never backs down because of the warning signs, she’s accepted that by now. 

Everything’s set up, everyone knows their marks. But there’s still some unfinished business. Alice catches a glimpse of Penny, seated beside Julia, who is out of the running, and he’s comforting her. Their eyes meet for a second, and Penny ignores Alice. Heat rises in her cheeks. She hopes she hasn’t pushed him into Julia’s arms. 

She walks up to Quentin, he lingers by the staircase, and they discuss who should throw the bottles in the Seam and save the day. Alice is reluctant to let him be the one, but she gives in. “We've tried the whole saving each other thing with mixed result. I’ve—I’ve been thinking about what works best, and I think—No, I know we are best when we’re a team.” 

“If nothing else, I like the sound of it,” Quentin says with a smile. 

“Because it’s true,” Alice says, then takes a deep breath. “But I don’t think it should be in a romantic capacity.” 

“What? I thought we were trying? What about the other day?” 

She rubs the palms of her hands on her knees, they’ve become sweaty. “You’ve been focused on Eliot… and I’ve started shifting my attention too.” 

“To fucking Penny?” Quentin chuckles, and she’s certain he doesn’t mean it literally, but… “Wait, you’re _fucking_ Penny?” Quentin gets off the stairs, startled, and walks into the other room, away from Julia and Penny. 

“I’m sorry, Quentin.” Alice sniffles and follows him, her arms wrap around herself for comfort. All the guilt, and shame, and pain she’s been holding on to, she can finally be free. “I didn’t mean for everything to get this complicated.” 

“What the— _what the hell_ , Alice,” he sputters. All the color is drained from his face, and the corner of his eyes crinkle with sorrow. “I can’t believe you would do that to me. Both 40 and 23.”

“It wasn’t about you, okay.” Alice frowns, bitterness on her tongue. “It was about what I needed, someone who was there for _me_ , someone who cared about _me_.” 

Quentin flinches. “I care.” 

“Really? Because every word out of your mouth has been about Eliot.” 

“He’s possessed!” His arms sweep to his head, and they’re not listening to each other. He’s not listening to her. He hasn’t been for so long. 

Alice sighs to herself, her fingers tapping against the side of her hip. “He is, and it’s awful. But I’m not. I’m still here. We’re _all_ still here, having to live out our lives, and deal with each other. And you might’ve showed up, but you never checked in. You weren’t there, Quentin.” 

“I can’t believe you think that makes any of it ok, because—” 

“It doesn’t!” Alice yelps, then sags her shoulders. “I know that. I’ve been where you are. Remember?” Tears fall from her eyes, a tiring and tedious phenomenon at this point, but it’s not within her control. “All I can say is that I’m truly sorry.” 

“Okay, people, let’s do this. If you need to touch butts, make it quick, we’ve got a multiverse to save.” Margo strolls past them, the axes on her shoulders. 

Quentin quiets down, and stares at her tears. “Uhh, I need to focus. Why would you tell me this now?” 

“Because I meant it. We’re best when we’re a team, Q. No matter what, I don’t want to lose that.” She wipes away her tears, calming her temper as he tries his. 

“Can we talk about this after we save the world? _Again_?” 

She hums her assent. “Could we hug?” Alice asks, her voice small, and Quentin glances away, then back to her, his eyes watering over, his lips turning downward, but he nods. They hold each other for a few seconds, two bleeding hearts. A spell gone wrong, but a risk worth taking. They’re something different now, something new—what, exactly, she doesn’t know yet. But she’ll always try to save him, they don’t need to be linked romantically for that. Love comes in a wide variety of corresponding finger tut combinations that evoke and empower, and Alice will try to find theirs. 

The group, save for Julia, assembles at the backdoor of the Cottage, and glance at the lounge one last time. They’ve spent a great deal of time here, shared heartfelt moments about her family, had confrontational conversations about how to stop the Beast, and Alice blended in the eclectic background as she tried to mingle with others. She’s grown so much in the last few years, and she doesn’t want to let her fear rule her. Not anymore. Quentin is able to handle the truth, no matter how dire the situation, so she would try too. 

“Penny, wait.” Alice stands in the doorway, and Penny turns around to face her.

He glances to Quentin and Margo, who are waiting for him a few feet away. Quentin is not looking at them, and Margo has an annoyed look on her face. They’ve somewhere to be, but Penny still nears Alice. “What do you want?” His voice is cool, and hard, as if she’s testing his patience too. 

“Oh. I just, uhm, I want to apologize. In case everything goes to shit.” Alice slants towards him, but he’s guarded. “I choose you.” 

“You fucked him.” 

“That, _that_ , was a mistake. I was confused. I-I thought I could make it work, somehow, that our love would be enough to save us. But it isn’t. There’s no fixing us. We’re done.” Her heart is racing, and Alice wants nothing more than to touch Penny, to lean into his comfort, but he’s not giving her any, so she keeps her hands to herself, fussing with the fabric of her skirt. “I broke it off.” 

A muscle in his jaw twitches, and he tilts his head. “Too little, too late.” 

“Penny, I—“

“Can you hurry the fuck up, dickwads? We’ve got a demon to exorcise.” Margo shouts, and swings one of her axes in the air. 

Penny glances over his shoulder at Margo, doesn’t say anything, then stares into Alice’s eyes, taking his time before responding. “You need to leave me alone. I don’t want to say shit I’ll regret.” 

“Fine. Okay.” Alice draws her brows together, and chews the inside of her cheek. “Be careful.”

Penny lingers by the doorframe, his eyes softening. “Yeah. You too.” Then he saunters to Margo and Quentin, holds Margo’s hand, and they’re gone, off to find the Monster and save Eliot. 

Alice bides her time in Dean Fogg’s office until it’s time to do the cooperative spell. She moves in synchronicity with other magicians, energy flowing from her chest to the tips of her fingers. Once in a lifetime kind of magic, and Alice feels alive in the aftermath, but she doesn’t get to linger on the sensation, she doesn’t get to continue performing cooperative magic. She convenes with Quentin and Margo, gathers the bottles, one for Quentin, one for her, as Margo stays behind with Eliot in the hospital. The final step. They meet Penny in their alma mater’s lab, all the tables and chairs moved aside for the mirror they have to go through to enter the Mirror World.

There’s something that stops Alice from opening the door to the Seam in the Mirror World, a tightness in the pit of her stomach, a whisper in the back of her mind that tells her not to. But they’re on a clock. And everything goes horribly wrong. 

Penny drags her back to the mirror while Quentin—he, he disintegrates in front of her eyes, and there’s nothing she can do about it, there’s no way for her to save him. Gleaming, gold sparkles blur her vision, and then she’s on the floor in the lab, Penny’s arms embracing her, as her heart breaks. Not like this. It’s supposed to be her. She was going to be the one to throw the bottles in the Seam. Quentin wasn’t supposed to die. Water streams from the mirror, and Alice wails. 

It takes her days, after that, to get out of bed, and she only comes out to honor Quentin at the bonfire. She doesn’t know what to say, none of them do, so they sing for him, they sing to him, wherever he is, and it doesn’t change anything, but it’s a goodbye he deserves. An ending he’s fought for. Alice drops the Brakebills mug into the fire, wishing him farewell, one last offering in his name, one final impact he’s made in her life. One of three men she's loved and lost. Then she’s back to her room at the penthouse, not ready to mingle with the others, but unable to leave them at the same time.

They’re not close friends, she’s not with most them, but they’re the closest thing she has to Quentin. 

And then there’s Penny, who stops the days from blending together. A speck of light in the shadows of her mind. He visits her bed every day, with bagels and caffé mochas, or other delights, settles her into his warm arms, and offers her every ounce of comfort and care he has to give. She soaks it all in, airs her grievings, then burrows deeper into his chest. He talks to her about mundane things to give her something to focus on, about his theories on the changed Circumstances, about the reorganization at Brakebills, about a ripped page that Julia found in Quentin’s room, about another letter from the Library, about Kady’s on-going role as leader to the hedge witches. 

This isn’t how she wanted her story with Quentin to end, and there’s still some guilt that lingers in her heart, for daring to speak her truth, but she can’t save Quentin. Not anymore. And she has to learn to live with that, and find meaning in how her life has unfolded, and she’ll do that together with the others, as soon as she’s ready to come out of bed. Together with Penny, who has made his intentions clear. 

“You don’t have to be here for me. You don’t have to care.” 

“I know, but I’m not going anywhere.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for going on this journey with me! Comments and kudos are appreciated.  
> Find me on [Tumblr](https://existentialmalaises.tumblr.com/).


End file.
